


Burning Pages, Smoldering Wings

by NoPenIntended



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Aziraphale is dead, Fire, Hurt Crowley, Lots of Angst, angst no plot, break-it fic i guess, but everything's broken, crowley is in mourning, dead aziraphale, it's like a fix-it fic, the bookstore is burnt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-09 16:03:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19890547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoPenIntended/pseuds/NoPenIntended
Summary: What if Aziraphale actually had died when the bookstore was burned? What if there was no leaving, no discorporation, just a bookstore on fire and a grieving demon





	Burning Pages, Smoldering Wings

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this because my friend asked me to. I had a lot of fun writing it, though, so that's a win for me.

The bookstore was on fire, and it was hell.

Not Hell as in the place, mind you; hell as in Crowley's utter worst nightmare brought to life, hell as in the knowledge that the only thing he truly cared about on this Earth, more than even his plants, even the Bentley, was gone, never to return.

Crowley had been to Hell before, and while it was a miserably wretched place, it paled in comparison to the hell he was in now. They had killed Aziraphale, and everything he had loved on the Earth. 

(Crowley had no way of knowing it, what with the angel no longer being around to correct him, but the second part of that sentence was not entirely true. While Crowley still lived, as much as a demon's continued existence while lacking anything to exist for could be considered life, there was at least one thing left on Earth unburned that Aziraphale had loved.)

The demon sunk to the ground amidst the burning rare books, first editions and only editions cracking as the glue separated from their spines and then spread to their pages, smoldering.

Crowley wondered, his thoughts dark as the burnt paper, if Aziraphale's feathers had smoldered the same way. The very idea of the angel going up into games and dissolving into ashes, of the horrified screams that turned to whimpers that turned to nothing in Crowley's absence, sparked unused tear ducts into action.

For the first time in over six thousand years, a demon truly wept. He wept over the thought of an angel's death, of a light of the Earth-- the light of the Earth, going out in such a horrific way. He wept over a lost friendship, nearly as old as the Earth. More than that, he wept over a man who did not deserve to die, who did not want to die.

Let the end of the world take him, he thought grimly as he tore off his broken, dark glasses, striding out of the bookstore with remarkable confidence, the confidence only a man with nothing left to lose could have. He had lost his best friend and his chance for anything more.  
Let it end him, so that in oblivion, he would be whole again with Aziraphale.


End file.
